


Epiphany

by Cata_Lina



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ablutophilia, Accidental Plot, Action & Romance, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Armitage Hux is a Jerk, Armitage Hux-centric, Aurebesh Language (Star Wars), Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Bad Decisions, Bisexual Phasma (Star Wars), Bottom Armitage Hux, Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Co-workers, Dominant Armitage Hux, Dopheld Mitaka is a cinnamon roll, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fights, Frequent updates, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Light BDSM, Love/Hate, Misunderstandings, Multiple Relationships, My First Work in This Fandom, Nice Armitage Hux, Other, POV Armitage Hux, POV Multiple, POV Original Female Character, POV Queer Character, POV Second Person, Pining, Push/Pull, Queer Friendly, Reader-Insert, Sassy Phasma (Star Wars), Slow Burn, Sword Fighting, Touch-Starved, Voice Kink, Work In Progress, Workplace Relationship, gender neutral reader, hygiene kink, that's Comfort with a capital C, vague descriptions of main character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cata_Lina/pseuds/Cata_Lina
Summary: You've been working under General Hux' command for the last year on the Finalizer while he's been focused on his pet project Starkiller Base, learning to admire your superior in ways that are more than just strictly professional. Still, you've kept your feelings to yourself all the while being in charge of evaluating the efficiency, effectiveness and impact of different projects and the overall productivity of the Star Destroyer. But, what happens when the man you have a crush on is also responsible for most of your work-related headaches?Important:I'm taking requests to write the next chapters with a female (trans or cis-gender) or gender-queer main character as Reader. Please, leave a comment with details if you want me to write the next romantic scenes with that in mind.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Original Character(s), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character(s), Armitage Hux/Reader, Armitage Hux/You, Dopheld Mitaka & Reader, Dopheld Mitaka/Reader, Kylo Ren & Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. Enlightening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the OC as a problem arises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the 1st of a series of chapters I intend to write covering the developing relationship between all these characters.  
> I'll describe the main character as little as possible, so a wide spectrum of people can read this fic. Still, **please, let me know in advance if you want me to write the next romantic and smut scenes with a gender-neutral/queer or trans woman character in mind.**

You are in the practically empty mess deck, going through a series of papers detailing the Finalizer’s performance when you have the epiphany.

One of the classified documents in your hands is part of the freshly released ‘Official Work-Performance Report’ of the month –the very same General Hux most likely has displayed on his datapad at this very moment as he, like you, reads the latest bad news while having breakfast before his work-shift starts. The other document on your second datapad on your lap is the most recent medical information of everyone who, in the past standard months, used either the med-bay or the psychological services on the Star Destroyer.

You borrow your brow and put your mug down to hold each device properly.

You don’t like what you see.

The report that came out minutes ago was appalling enough, showing no efficiency improvement –from either workers or droids on the ship− since the last update. And because of it, you immediately know it won’t be an easy day once General Hux leaves his cabin. The man is smart; tenacious; authoritative; elegant and oh so handsome –you only think this when you forget he’s your superior, of course−, but he’s also mysterious; dominating; strict and sometimes volatile. Which, more often than not, means he is temperamental when dealing with incompetence. In times like this, wherever he goes a miasma of fear follows him, leaving a trail of uneasiness and unproductivity on his path.

Alas, that is just one of the problems. The second datapad shows an increase in both psychological and medical attention despite not being in combat and accidents having been reduced significantly. It is a tendency you’ve been investigating on your own for a while now in an attempt to avoid having droids being overloaded with tasks when covering for someone, and also to reduce the number of co-workers being reassigned to other stations or vessels, or even going to Reconditioning. Since the figures don’t seem to change that much from update to update, at the time it is not of concern to the First Order. Yet, it is a personal defeat after spending last year finding and implementing ways to make the work environment on the spaceship secure and pleasant for all officers, troopers and technicians, at all times, no matter the circumstances.

You sigh. At least your efforts are still reflected on the ‘Official Work-Performance Report’. You can only hope the General won’t be particularly difficult with you today.

  


  


“Good day, (y/n).” You hear Lieutenant Mitaka’s greeting when he takes a seat near you.

“I really hope so, Dopheld.” You sigh, giving him a weak but honest smile.

Finding yourselves working in some projects together and having a similar clearance level –which allows you to keep longer and more detailed conversations with him than with other co-workers–, you’ve grown fond of the man over the past year. He’s the closest thing you have to a friend on this ship. If your positions and workload would allow it, you’d spend more time together to get to know each other better and vent over your sometimes quite stressful jobs.

“Why? You’ve already seen this month’s performance report?” He jokes, noticing your expression. “I came to read it before my shift starts. I hope it isn’t too bad or we all will be in trouble.”

“It’s not just that. I’m reading other classified reports and things could be better.” You tell him, knowing you shouldn’t be discussing these matters in public. But you trust the Lieutenant and there's basically no one around.

“Well, there are always ways to improve things. And I’m confident you’ll find a way to do just that.” He offers before focusing on his datapad, his eyes still glowing after trying to lift your spirit.

“Thank you, Dopheld.”

You take a mouthful of your rations before diving in your documents, attempting to find something you’ve been missing.

It is beyond you why these two sources of information are not presented together. Each one of them gives an account of different indicators; sure. But, collectively, they paint a far clearer picture of how every department on board is doing. Besides, when combined with the information of the position and the moment that every complication and malfunction detected in the ship occurs −as well as the time and place of the testified perfect operations and well-executed tasks no one really keeps record of−, then, the cause of most of the problems that have been giving you a headache since you took the position of the Finalizer’s Chief Efficiency Evaluator can be narrowed down to the influence of one person.

And the control-freak you admit you sometimes are when it comes to your work, you can’t dismiss this enlightening discovery just like that. Not when it involves the one person you admire for his commitment to work, his loyalty to the Order, and his command over everyone –enemies, colleagues, and subordinates alike. Neither when it entails that the person you’ve been having a crush on for almost a year now is, technically, the source of the very hindrances you’ve been trying to prevent and which he hates so much.

You look closer to your calculations, not able to believe the combined statistics. You even check everything one more time, but the results are the same: General Hux’ reaction to difficulties and incompetence around him is affecting the performance of almost everyone on the Finalizer in unthinkable ways.

“Stars! Even Commander Ren’s figures are not that high…” You murmur, noticing the accumulative weight of the General’s fury when comparing it to the precise, local, momentary and, therefore, minimal effect of Kylo Ren’s sporadic outbursts.

“Pardon?” Your friend asks, looking up to you.

“Nothing. I just didn’t think things were so…” You stop, in case someone overhears your conversation.

“Is it that bad?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Ha! And here I was, wishing I could leave the bridge on time for a change.” Mitaka comments, giving you an apologetic look.

You groan, going over the information in your hands before giving in to the undeniable truth.

“I’m sorry. But if it makes you feel any better, it’ll be an intense cycle for me too.” You empathise with him.

What are you going to do now? It is a never-ending circle that must be stopped before it’s too late.

You look at the time, coming up with the best way to address this. There are still a few minutes before your shift begins. You could intercept General Hux on his way to the bridge and risk being the first officer he shouts down today when trying to explain what you just discovered, or you could request to meet him in his office, privately and with plenty of time to go over the facts; implications and –if you play your cards right– find possible solutions. You don’t hesitate to take the second option.

As a result, you type a message to your superior asking him to receive you as soon as possible to discuss the ‘Official Work-Performance Report’. You haven’t sent it yet when Mitaka suddenly stands up, excusing himself.

“I’m sorry. General Hux requests my presence on the bridge immediately.” He gulps. “Wish me luck?”

You know Mitaka is the last person that needs any luck to face the General. But if your friend wants a litttle encouragement to do precisely that, who are you to deny him your support? And so, you get to your feet too and take a step closer to hug him and say:

“You’ll do great. Just do your work as you always do.”

“Likewise.” He replies, hugging you back. “Thank you, (y/n) It was nice to talk to you again.” He adds, beaming and a little more confident before leaving.

You sit down and finish writing your message. You’re sending it when the notification of an unread message appears in the corner of your datapad. You tap it and you immediately gulp. It is General Hux demanding your presence in his office in ten minutes from now. You take your time to calm down and pick up everything before meeting up with your superior. This is your chance to tell him what you just found out and recommend some improvements.

That’s it. Whatever it is the reason for summoning you to his office, if you can convince the man to listen to you, he might grow fond of your ideas.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are still 5 more chapters to go before the actual smut, so feel free to make any request for the next chapters.  
> This is my 1st SW fic, so I welcome any advice/correction.


	2. Ambition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to know what's going on inside Hux' head, and what plans he has for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you spot the Dune reference 😉

It had already been a busy early morning for General Hux, with plenty of reports from different First Order Intelligence departments to study. Not to mention the usual forms he is obliged by his rank to examine and sign as soon as his cycle starts. 

After making sure the Finalizer arrived at the worthless planet of Jakku without being detected and a long night having to comply with Kylo Ren’s demands to make sure he had all the equipment; dropships and troops needed to complete a silly mission the Supreme Leader himself gave to the Force user, the General is glad to know Snoke’s lapdog has finally left his ship. This way, he can distract himself with something different yet still work-related while waiting for an update. Fortunately for him, the full version of the monthly ‘Official Work-Performance Report’ of his flagship has just been released and it’s now available to read for the officers with the highest clearance on board.

Despite not finding in the document the good news he expected, it still provides the most recent information regarding the state of the battlecruiser and those under his command. To be honest, he hoped to find better results after allowing the Finalizer’s Chief Efficiency Evaluator to implement major transformations on board. Still, he has to remind himself that it is too soon for the effects of those changes to be evident in the report. Having spent the greatest part of the last standard month overseeing the progress of Starkiller Base while still not having a confirmation from the Supreme Leader of a promotion, or even of his permanence in the project once it was completed, General Hux can understand the lack of progress on the Finalizer. Not that his crew was doing anything wrong. No. At the contrary, they are doing their job; only that not as efficiently as he would like when his career; his reputation, and the future of the First Order itself are at stake.

The General pours himself another cup of tarine tea before reading the last pages of the report. He brings the mug to his lips and closes his eyes, relishing for a second on the brew’s soothing smell and enjoying its distinguishable bitter flavour. It’s an acquired taste but, at least, little rituals like these bring him a sliver of the peace he needs right now. Once he closes the document, though, he realises he’s been frowning more than usual.

He cannot help it, frankly. If the informant from the canyon of Kelvin Ravine was right, and Kylo Ren succeeds on this mission to obtain Luke Skywalker’s hiding location, there’s no doubt Supreme Leader Snoke will strengthen his efforts to fight against those mythical and extinct Jedi warriors instead of focusing on defeating the genuine threat the Republic represents. If Ren returns with anything leading to Skywalker’s −or his imaginary secret army’s− whereabouts, Snoke will most likely reward his pupil with a greater title than just Commander. One which will give the Force user the power to plot against him while he remains a General or, worst, while he’s demoted if Starkiller Base is finally deemed to be a waste of resources in spite of its glorious potential.

General Hux’ fists clench at the very thought.

He cannot allow this. Hux is confident in the work he’s done so far, but he understands he has yet to consolidate his position as the head of the First Order. He didn’t get this far in the Order to lose it all to a masked child who can’t take a single good military decision, let alone a decent political one. But who can tell the Supreme Leader what to do? As far as Hux knows, many men have tried and, even if he's not sure they failed, all of them have died. General Hux still depends enormously on Supreme Leader Snoke and so, he has to be careful; methodical; smarter than both his superior and his rival if he expects to have a major influence on Snoke’s plans.

Hopefully, the new stormtroopers he sent Kylo Ren with will be hindrance enough. Not that he wants the Tuanul operation to be a complete failure. No. That would be unbecoming of General Hux as a member and leader of the First Order. In fact, all he needs is for it not to be a complete success attributable to Ren. Besides, and as far as everyone knows, the troopers are randomly selected; these squadrons are as skilled and obedient as any other, and they specialise on missions on arid regions despite this being only their second one. There’s nothing the General can be blamed for since he hasn’t done a thing to actively ruin the operation. In fact, he even sent Captain Phasma with them.

In most people’s eyes, this move will look like a courtesy; an aid in case her presence is necessary. But the truth is far from that. If someone is going to get the credit for getting Skywalker’s location, it’s going to be Phasma following Hux’ orders or one of the experienced soldiers under her command.

He sighs. At least he doesn’t have to worry about Phasma plotting against him. If only there were more high-ranking officers in the Order like her −or at least that he knew as well as he knows the Captain−, General Hux would be a little bit less apprehensive when being under Snoke’s and the First Order’s scrutiny. In the meantime, he takes advantage of the knowledge he’s gathered after a life in the Academy and serving in the Order. If experience has taught him something is that no matter how far he gets, there’s no one he can really trust. Even so, he can’t deny another ally would be more than welcome right now.

The General makes a decision then and there, contacting one of his men to cover him on the bridge for the next standard hour. It should be no problem. They know what to do whether he’s there or not. Except that…, according to the Finalizer’s performance report he just read, his absence in the ship has already impacted them.

He takes a deep breath and types another urgent message. He needs to have a word with you as soon as possible. If someone can help him impress the Supreme Leader with how his subordinates’ work, that is you. This might be the first time you alone are responsible for measuring and enhancing the productivity of a battlecruiser and those working in it, but you have shown to be good in that position. Before working for him, you worked in different, important and very successful projects with some of his most reliable officers on other First Order Resurgent-class Star Destroyers and on Ilum. And he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he values your work; your opinion, and your loyalty. To his surprise, you have backed him up in several occasions in front of other officers and members of the High Command; and if he expects you to support him in a future meeting with the Supreme Leader when defending his right to be promoted, he’ll have to train you to perform flawlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for monthly updates on this fic. The more comments I get, the more I'm encouraged to write. So, feel free to let me know what you'd like to see in the future.  
> Have a good day, and see you soon!


	3. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the beauty and horrors of Big Data!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter than the previous ones, but I intend to make this a regular thing.
> 
> Note that in this chapter _(y/s)_ stands for "your surname" or "your last name"; while _(y/n)_ , for "your first name". Clearly, the Reader isn't on a first-name basis with the General like she's/they're with Mitaka. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

You straighten your posture and smooth your light-grey uniform once more as you face the entrance to General Hux’ office, making sure to look neat and confident. You check your expression and remind yourself you’ve been both here and alone in the same room with him before. You tell yourself there’s nothing to worry about, replaying in your mind the multiple occasions you’ve interacted with the man.

Of course, most of those times you’ve been either attending a meeting with other officers or giving a presentation for your superiors. Being summoned first thing in the morning right when your shift begins, however, can´t be compared to that.

Your General is a reasonable person; ruthless, yet smart and perceptive. He might not be the most sociable and approachable leader around, but behind his firm command and strict discipline; those stern looks and incisive critics, there’s a dedication to his people and the Order which you’ve learnt to respect. As long as you make clear what your intentions are, and what your work ethics have always been, you know everything should be fine.

You can handle this. Still, you have to close your eyes and take a moment to slowly breathe in and out before you step close enough for the door to open. But, all too suddenly, it then hisses and the General’s solemn voice reaches your ears:

“Captain (y/n) (y/s).”

The way he pronounces your full name and title making you immediately open your eyes and to all intents and purposes you beam at him when standing to attention. Your instant reaction and perfect stance something you’re proud to master after almost a decade serving in the First Order. If only your mind was as obedient as the rest of your body, though.

You’ve always admired the way General Hux presents himself, so poised and in control, and his voice is easily one of your greatest weaknesses. All the more when he addresses you this way, practically purring your name. Countless times you’ve dreamed of those plush lips whispering those exact same words in your ear in far more indecent scenarios.

 _“Be professional. Remember why you’re here,”_ you reprimand yourself.

It takes you another second to concentrate on the here and now when a handful of said dreams begin exactly like this. But you manage; noticing the striking redhead standing at the head of the big, black table, the one you know he uses for meetings; to exhibit blue-prints and large-scale maps, or to discuss strategies, survey real-time troops deployment and other events.

You swallow, and fix your eyes on his sparkling, green ones; studying him. Nothing in his posture or face giving off why he called for you.

“General Hux,” you then great him; your imperial accent much heavier than your superior’s.

Waiting for an order, you don’t move until he asks you to join him. You try to brush your remaining insecurities off seeing that it’s just the two of you in his office. But what really does the trick is hearing him telling you there’s no need to follow protocol. You might be imagining things but, despite your previous reservations, today your General sounds proud and almost relieved to see you. Whatever the reason he wants you here, it is not to admonish you; you conclude, mentally heaving a sigh of relief.

“Thank you for receiving me. I was hoping you had a few minutes,” you continue, striding in his direction; emboldened by the handsome man’s invitation. “Before you say anything, sir, I need to speak with you,” you announce, taking a seat right next to him.

“Of course you do, Captain,” he scoffs beside you, looking through his mails and stopping on the message you sent him.

Your eyes widen when it displays in full size on the table’s surface, right next to the Finalizer’s efficiency report. You gulp. Maybe you were wrong. He might not want to punish you, but you clearly owe him an explanation.

“I can explain, sir,” you reply without delay.

“What can you explain, officer?” He parts his gaze from the screen; first, frowning when seeing your brows arch and eyes widen; then, scowling when spotting the outdated datapads on your hands.

“These numbers, sir.” Your lips purse when you fumble with the old devices; struggling to find the document with your own calculations; expanded details and recommendations. Of course that after years of working flawlessly, they chose this moment to take their time processing your commands. “I understand if you are not pleased with these results; even more after my direct involvement with the selection and evaluation of the personnel along with my team's recent intervention in both the Acclimatising and Reconditioning programs,” you, still, professionally clarify.

“Is that why you assume I asked you to come?” The General asks; a bit on the offensive and clearly confused.

To inexperienced eyes, you would look tense; probably because you have been forced to discuss your own performance with such a high-ranking officer like him. But, you are hiding something. Armitage Hux knows how to read people; and if he had to guess, he would say that more than worried, you are annoyed. But, annoyed with what? With _whom?_

With… _him?_

“I promise, sir, we won’t be seeing these discouraging figures once my team and I are allowed to implement the Problem-Management projects I have already presented to you and my direct superiors.” You argue, not having heard his question. “I can send you a copy of the abridged version right away, sir.”

“You admit they are indeed discouraging, then,” he states with a hint of amusement behind his characteristic, authoritative voice before he focuses once more on the work-performance report in front of you both. “I cannot say I would not like to see more promising results already.” He pauses, rising an eyebrow to look at you: “Oddly enough, most officers in your position would disagree, claiming these figures are perfectly acceptable for any First Order Resurgent-Class Battlecruiser.”

“I understand, General. But I am aware these are crucial times for the First Order and for you, sir. Amongst the last things we need right now is for easily foreseen interruptions to get in our way. I would not be doing my job if I did not inform you we could be doing better. All the more when talking about one of our oldest Star Destroyers.”

He stares at you, practically hissing: “I appreciate your interest and commitment, Captain (y/s).” He then stands up, looking down at your body from top to bottom; clearly analysing you. “You might feel responsible for the Finalizer and its crew's efficiency, but remember your position, officer.”

“Yes, General.” You fight the impulse to lower your face, managing to keep eye contact as your General would expect you to. However, you can’t do much to stop the growing, warm sensation on your cheeks once noticing you overstepped.

“You are my flagship’s Chief Efficiency Evaluator for a reason,” the General retorts, now fixing his penetrating gaze on you. “I presume you understand that even if it is part of your job, it is _my_ duty as General of the First Order and the head of this vessel to make sure everyone and everything on board is giving their hundred per cent under my command.”

“I understand, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” you utter, feeling a growing lump in your throat. “I… I did not mean to make any assumption.” This time, you look down altogether; concentrating on your lap.

“Look at me officer,” he sternly commands and you swiftly comply, head up and back rigid at attention. “As I said,” he carries on in that imposing, powerful tone of his that would make anyone shudder. But you’d swear, again, that you hear a sliver of enjoyment in his voice too: “That, Captain, is part of your job. And I would not be doing mine correctly if I ignored my subordinate’s recommendations.”

It is not usual for the General to feel sympathy for anybody; however, he thinks he comprehends why you so zealously defend your opinions and projects. You are not like most of his officers. He doubts you’d acquiesce to incompetence, or find excuses to pass mistakes and tardiness as part of an acceptable occurrence. No. Sometimes, you might go one step too far for his liking, but you go one step further nonetheless; still attempting to prevent difficulties before they arise. To his surprise, Hux does not find himself frowning when addressing you:

“I have already studied your proposition regarding problem-management improvements on board and I can see it is promising. See that the full version and relevant details are sent my way within the cycle. I’ll personally review said projects, and we can discuss them later.” His last words coming out more like an invitation than a request.

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir,” you eagerly respond, amazed he skipped the usual bureaucratic procedure to, instead, give it a look himself before your other superiors have a say in the projects.

“This reminds me…” He sighs, the lines on his forehead softening even more as he aimlessly strolls through the room with his hands on his back and he explains: “Apparently, my recent off-ship work has kept me from dedicating my flagship and crew the time and attention they need. I have been looking for a capable officer to watch over them when I’m not around. I know my subordinates should excel at their jobs under pressure regardless of my absence, but these reports suggest otherwise.”

You feel your mouth drying and your heart rate increasing when comprehending that your superior reckons his ship’s average performance is somehow his fault. You know you must tell him that, technically, what he just said is not right, and that, on the other hand, he’s not that far from the truth. A silence falls when the General stops, turning his head in your direction. The two of you lock eyes then, waiting for the other to continue and making the situation even more awkward.

“What do you say, Captain?” He asks, expectant.

Not knowing exactly how to proceed, you are grateful to find an excuse to avert your gaze. One of your datapads is glowing, showing you the calculations you were looking for earlier. You hesitate to reveal this newfound information, fearing the General changes his mind regarding your problem-management projects. But then, suddenly, the other contraption in your hand buzzes and displays the rest of the statistics on the table for the two of you to see.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” he adds from the other side of the table and, with a graceful movement of his hand, he beckons to you to go on.

“With all due respect, I hope you are not jumping into conclusions, sir. For there is more to this report than what meets the eye,” you say, surprising him.

“Explain yourself.” He cocks his head slightly; a gesture you can only read as curiosity.

“Let me show you, sir,” you stand up, circling the table until you are only a few steps from him. And for the next half an hour, you present your personal annotations with the combined statistics of the efficiency report; the medical information, and other relevant data.

The two of you are engrossed in details and simulations for another while, taking in each other’s comments and corrections. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this comfortable working so close to someone that’s never been part of your team. You wish all your superiors shared the General’s passion for your work and were this easy to talk to.

“As you can see, there is a direct correlation between the overall performance and which officers are and are not around,” you cautiously put it all in plain words after exposing the hidden information that the report does not show.

Neither of you says a thing for the next seconds while he goes through your calculations. You note there’s something about it making the General uncomfortable. You smile to yourself, recognising in him the feeling you had this early morning before having your revelation.

“Under regular standards, this situation would not necessarily represent a problem,” the General says after absorbing the factual evidence. “Yet,” he looks up at you, “you have succeeded to foresee complications before they even appear. I have to say, Captain, I am impressed.”

“Thank you, sir,” you reply, feeling your cheeks redden again.

You don’t know how to take the compliment. It isn’t customary for the General to praise anybody. However, there’s a big difference between correlation and causation, along with an issue you haven’t addressed yet:

“I have to be transparent with you, General. There’s one officer in particular who is frequently around before the same kind of delays and accidents occur. Someone in whose absence most workers are highly efficient. As shown in this other report, our personnel are requiring more medical and psychological assistance after working in projects with this person, or in the same places.”

“Ren,” he spits under his breath.

“Well…, sir. Commander Kylo Ren is just one of the crewmembers whose statistics suggest his presence on board is detrimental for the overall performance.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am sorry to be the one telling you this, General; but, there is this other matter that recently caught my eye. As you see here, lately there is this one high-ranking officer whose presence on board is causing more problems than usual.”

“Hmm…, yes. I have to say, Captain (y/s), the amount of data you’ve complied is stounding. As you suggest, the presence of this officer in the Finalizer is negatively impacting their subordinates. We’ll have to do something about it. I trust you to get to the root of it and help me improve the performance of my crew, particularly if this officer is preventing my subordinates on the bridge to excel at their jobs.”

“Does this mean I will be given a green light to implement the problem-managing projects I mentioned earlier, sir?”

“Only once they are approved, of course. But from what I have gathered from this meeting, it should not take too long. In the meantime, you will collect more information regarding the origin of the hindrances and drawbacks you have already identified. I will speak with your superiors had you any inconvenient.”

“Thank you, General. May I have at my disposal a new multidisciplinary team to help me with this task?”

“As long as it does not interfere with their other assigned tasks, I do not see why not.” He nods, his impassive face giving up to a more enthusiastic expression. “The sooner you find something of importance to report to me, the better. We want to implement your projects as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.” This time, you intentionally smile at him.

“You’ll have to select and put up your team yourself, I’m afraid. And handpick them from our most trustworthy officers. Understood?”

“Yes, General. I wouldn’t recommend this to be a public operation. That may be detrimental to our purpose.”

“Good,” he says relaxing in his chair. He lowers his gaze a little, working on his datapad; and you can’t help to stare at the good-looking ginger’s profile.

It stirs something inside you seeing your General like this, enjoying himself while discussing things he’s passionate about. You can’t tell what it is, but you like the feeling. Besides, it’s nice to know you were right. You had a hunch and you were true to yourself as you followed your intuition. Your honesty and commitment were rewarded…

“Do you see something funny, Captain (y/s)?” General Hux’ voice catches your attention, making you jolt in your chair. “You’ve been looking at me for quite a while. Your smile only growing as the seconds passed,” he comments, not parting his eyes from the electronic device in his hands; but still, you glimpse the line of his lips twisting upwards almost imperceptibly.

“Nothing funny, sir.” You are fast to respond, improvising: “But I have a theory why this officer’s presence is affecting his subordinates’ performance.”

“Oh! It is a male high-ranking officer, then,” he’s quick enough to pick that up. “And, according to this log, he has been coming and going intermittently the past months. That’s how you are certain it is him who is affecting his colleagues.”

“That’s right sir. Besides, when my team and I spoke with the crew whose performance was compromised, they gave us the same answer,” you explain, noticing the General is urging you to continue. “It’s the pressure, sir. Most of them feel anxious when their ge-…, this officer is being, well, let’s say difficult with them.”

“That’s quite the statement, Captain.”

“I know, sir. I don’t want to rush and claim he is the direct responsible for all our problems, but situations like this one are more common than you imagine.”

“Nonsenses!” He scoffs. “From what I see here, there is plenty of incriminatory evidence to intervene now and reprimand this officer. And I’ll have to do something with Kylo Ren too. We cannot allow these individuals’ behaviour to have such an impact on my ship.”

“I insist.” You knit your brows and gently move your hand to his. It is an instinct, and you immediately withdraw your hand when you realise what you were about to do. “Please, General,” you continue, happy he didn’t notice. “Let me and my new team gather more information before we implement the projects…”

You are forced to stop when General Hux looks closer to the identification details of the person in question which you forgot to hide from his view. There is personal, sensitive information in these documents you have been showing him. The protocol is to only disclose what the viewers are allowed to know when you prepare presentations like this one, but earlier you skipped this part of your meeting routine because you would be talking to a member of the First Order High Command who, anyways, has access to everyone’s personal records.

Regardless of this, you scold yourself for not anticipating General Hux would get a close look to your annotations and spreadsheets. You should have hidden better the officers’ identification code, just in case he came across private information he wasn’t supposed to see without the owner being notified or without their consent, such as somebody’s location at a given time and their medical or psychological profile.

But what your superior ends up finding out has you freezing then and there:

“What do these letters mean?” He points to the first three highlighted Aurebesh symbols in the very last columns of a worksheet: a _Grek_ ; followed by an _Esk_ and a _Nern_.

“That’s the code for their designation, sir,” you reply, knowing better than to refuse to answer a direct question from your General.

“'G', 'E', 'N'? As in 'General'?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“This officer is a General?” He frowns, trying to identify the man in question. There are not many officers in the Order who share his title, and there are even fewer Generals who frequent the Finalizer.

“He is, sir.”

“And the next letters, I presume…” He points to an _Aurek_ preceding the letters _Herf; Usk,_ and _Xesh_ in the same row. His inquisitive eyes meet yours and you can see his brows relaxing for a fraction of a second to immediately arch up as the meaning of the symbols –designation; first-name initial, and surname– finally sinks in:

> _Gen._  
>  A.  
>  Hux.

You sigh. If you’re going to deliver the bad news that your General is in part responsible for the mild performance on his Star Destroyer, you better do it right now that his humour seems to be still better than you would have expected. Yet again, in case you misinterpreted him, letting him know you already have a back-up plan ready to implement will hopefully appease your superior.

“Yes, sir.” You clear your throat. “It is you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering what those codes in Aurebesh look like, you can type " _gen a hux_ " in the text entry in __  
> <https://aurebesh.org>. In fact, you can enter any text and see how it is written in the Star Wars alphabet. I recommend you to visit the site if you didn't know it already.


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all relationships start with the right foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said earlier it was a slowburn, so bear with me while a new character is introduced and we give the Reader another reason not to fall head over heels in love with our favourite general just yet.

General Hux remains silent for what feels like an eternity, although it mustn’t be more than a few seconds. His expression morphs into one of pure shock as he comes to the realisation that he’s been wrong all along and that his perception of himself as a leader is distorted. His arched eyebrows asking for an explanation you already gave him before regaining his composure.

For an instant there, you feel the urge to apologise until you understand nothing you said is really your fault. In fact, you don’t regret doing your job. If someone should explain themselves, it should be your General. He’s the one who’s been making his subordinates’ lives more difficult lately.

However, you doubt he’s the kind of man who is willing to take that approach. And he wouldn’t just express his regret to a lower-ranking officer like you. Because, what are you compared to him? _“Just one of the hundreds of Captains in the Order”,_ you remind yourself. You’re expendable. Whether he dislikes the way you work or your suggestions of improvement don’t align with his vision, he can easily replace you if he so wishes. You know you’re on thin ice the moment he points to you with his index finger; his face tense and his mouth ajar as he stands up and steps even closer.

Your superior is one of the most astute high-ranking officers in the First Order. Not without reason he’s famous for being the youngest one to get this far, this fast. Nevertheless, he is also well-known for being merciless when the situation calls for it. Honestly, you have no idea what he’s going to do now that he knows what he thought a good display of leadership may have him facing a serious setback.

You consider all you know about the man before you, along with what the best course of action might be. You’ve witnessed General Hux’ official speeches before. They boost everyone’s morale not just for what he says, but mostly because of how he says it and how he presents himself. He’s an awe-inspiring figure for many, worthy of his subordinates’ admiration. Someone so confident in both the power and reach of the First Order as well as in his position in it must also be confident of his abilities. Someone so imposing and composed must be proud not only of his work but also of himself.

“I know what you are thinking, sir,” you quickly utter; bearing the weight of his cold, critical eyes on yours and before he has a chance to shout you down. “But, please, let me tell you I already know how to handle this,” you add in self-defence, yet loud enough to amaze yourself and your General with your improvisation skills and boldness respectively.

Truth be told, you have no idea what’s in your General’s mind at the moment. Despite this, either your words or your assurance seems to calm your superior. You note his nostrils still dilating and his chest rising when he inhales, but this time he does it in an attempt to calm himself before he replies in his usual authoritative voice:

“It is not often that other officers allege to know what I’m thinking.” He saunters around the table, circling you like a bird of prey. The image of an elegant bronze convor hunting in the air coming to mind. “It is even less common for them to be so precise with their timing.”

He’s not happy, that you can tell by his tone alone. Then again, you’re grateful he’s not dressing you down or sending you to Reconditioning. You know for him to choose the latter option would be to over-react, but rumours say the man is capable to do that and more to those preventing him to get what he wants.

Good for you, you reckon you know what that is. You take a deep breath before speaking, along with your best chance to tip the scales in your favour:

“General, you have seen what my team and I can do with the Finalizer and your personnel. Let us, and we will make your flagship the most efficient battlecruiser in the First Order Navy,” you offer, piquing his interest. Before continuing, though, you stand up and lift your chin a bit; both imitating his confident stance and wishing you looked as regal as him in his famous broadcasted speeches. “Her impeccable performance and the crew’s will only rival with the Supremacy’s. Every other fleet commander will be jealous. Just allow us to execute the problem-management projects within the following standard week and you will start seeing results before the next official performance report is out, sir.”

General Hux stops in his tracks right in front of you; he straightens his back even more and lowers his accusing hand to clench it over his stomach to look further into the room. It’s a gesture you’ve seen him make before when considering something important.

“Who else knows this?” He demands to know.

“So far, General? Just the two of us are aware of this.”

“And who has access to this information?”

“With this level of detail, sir? I’m afraid it would be me; and now you, sir.”

“Really, officer? Are you saying your superiors don’t have the clearance to gather the statistics you just showed me?” He turns his body in your direction; one raised, coppery eyebrow taking your attention away from his unsympathetic expression.

“That is not what I meant, sir. It takes time to get all this data. Even more to process it and get something useful from it. Unless they knew exactly what they were looking for, I doubt they came across any of this,” you pick up and hand him your datapad with the spreadsheet. “It took me hours to compile and systematise all these numbers,” you add, looking at your other datapad with your calculations, “and I did know what I was doing”.

“I see,” he replies; his expression softening as he goes through the stored reports and statistics in your datapad. “So, no one else can access these worksheets?”

“Not without my express authorisation, sir. Given the documents in your hands contain confidential information, whoever with access to them must be registered. Unless, of course, the officer is searching for information about themselves; or if they are a member of the First Order High Command like yourself. What is more, so far I have only shared these documents with you, General. Neither my superiors nor my peers know of the existence of this compiled data.”

“What about your subordinates?” He asks; lowering your datapad when, all of the sudden, its screen turns off.

“They do not know either, sir.”

“And it shall remain this way, Captain. Unless I order you to give this information to someone, the effect my presence has on the Finalizer’s performance is classified. You will not speak a word of what we discussed here today, nor will you report this meeting. Understood?”

Did he just ask you to keep his bad influence on the ship a secret? Is he really doing nothing about it? Seriously!? Is this the leader you had a high regard for?

“Yes, General. Of course, sir,” you reply; disconcerted and not knowing what else to say. It is a direct order from a superior and there’s nothing you can do about it but to obey.

As much as you hate to admit it, maybe you were wrong all along. There’s nothing you hate more than people going over others, mistreating them and abusing of their trust for their own benefit. If General Hux can neglect his flagship and personnel this easily just to cover up his actions, he doesn’t deserve his title nor he deserves your respect. You doubt you want to keep working under him if this is the kind of favours he’ll be asking you in exchange of granting your request to execute your projects in this or other First Order Star Destroyer.

It is then that he’s notified of an incoming call, which he takes right there in front of you. With a gesture of his hand, the upper half of a taller-than-the-general stormtrooper appears from the holoprojector on the table. You could recognise the statuesque, shiny armour anywhere.

 _“General Hux, the operation was a success,”_ comes Captain Phasma’s distinctive voice. _“We found the location and target.”_ She halts for a moment, taking notice of you. The Captain chooses not to disclose more, clearly not comfortable with your presence.

You take a quick look down to the eight access cylinders fastened to your chest. Blood, sweat and tears went into acquiring them along with the collection you don’t wear today. You wonder how many more you’d need to be able to hear the full conversation Phasma would have held with General Hux had she not censored herself. Obviously, and despite being trusted with the amount of data you have access to, in the eyes of the General and the Captain you’re not reliable enough to have this level of clearance.

You are not jealous of her, though. When you interact face to face with Phasma, she’s cordial and to the point; something that you are more than grateful for. Besides, her life history can’t be compared to yours. You understand that two officers’ careers don’t have to be similar for them to have the same title. You know her obligations are far different from yours and other Captains on board.

Still, you can’t help to wonder why is that Phasma has some liberties no other officer has. She is free to design recruitment and training programmes as she pleases; along with intervening in any phase of a project coming from the Intelligence, Weapons, Supply, Communications, Navigation, Tech and Reparations, and Med departments. She can also vet any decision taken by the head of one of said departments. Furthermore, she commands the troops.

Yet, she’s not a Commander. That title is reserved to Kylo Ren, with whom she works. But most of the time she works _with_ him and not necessarily _for_ him. While she is under his direct command, Phasma gives account of her soldiers and pilots’ performance to the High Command; which, more often than not, means reporting to General Hux instead of Commander Kylo Ren. This is not a common thing within the Order, let alone amongst Captains on the Finalizer. For example, you oversee different teams from different departments, reporting to the head of those departments who informs either the General or the Commander.

You guess that being a trusted, mid-rank officer stationed on two of the members of the High Command's flagship has its perks −like an unusually high clearance level− which you can only wish one day you’ll enjoy the way Captain Phasma does. Although, on second thought, you’re doing just fine not having to provide updates on the ship's or your team's progress to Kylo Ren or the Supreme Leader. Stars; if you were nervous when summoned to the General’s office, you don’t want to imagine how it’ll be meeting face to face with the Force users.

You gulp, concentrating on the centre of the holographic Captain’s visor.

“What else?” General Hux urges her to continue.

_“The target was eliminated and the witnesses executed. Additionally, a Resistance sympathiser was captured for on-board interrogation. His ship was thoroughly inspected before it was destroyed. I’ll personally give you the details of the mission once on the Finalizer.”_

“I assume everything went according to plan, then,” the General comments, not parting his gaze from Phasma.

_“Supreme Leader Snoke will be satisfied. I’ll report to you after boarding the Finalizer, General.”_

“Well, then. Captain.” He accepts and nods at your peer.

 _“General Hux; Captain (y/s),”_ she tilts her helmet to both of you before ending the communication, to what your superior hums and holds his hands behind his back. His face; unreadable.

 _“And now, what,”_ you wonder.

You requested to come to your General's office to discuss important matters and now that you finally said all that you had planned to say, you have no idea how to proceed. You don’t like the idea of overlooking a major problem like your superior’s influence on the Finalizer’s performance. Being this vessel’s Efficiency Evaluator, you cannot allow people to disregard their job or allow other officers’ work to be affected. On the other hand, you don’t want any of the licences and privileges that come with your position, or the General's offer, to be revoked. You have to say something…

“Do you have anything to add, Captain?” This time, General Hux asks you.

“Yes, sir. About what you said before Captain Phasma’s call…” You hesitate.

“Do not let anybody know what you heard here. That call was confidential.” He orders. “And what we discussed, Captain (y/s), will remain a secret until I give you further instructions. Is that clear?”

“Yes, General.” You answer, contrite.

“Good. As instructed earlier, you are free to select your new team. And send all the details of the projects you want me to revise. We’ll discuss them next time we meet.”

“As you wish, sir.” You make an effort to keep your temper under control.

“You are dismissed, Captain.” General Hux politely nods and takes one final step to you, handing you your datapads. “Next time, re-charge them before meeting with your superiors. These old things gave us enough trouble today,” he instructs you placing one hand on your back and guiding you to the exit.

“I will, General.” You refrain from commenting there’s nothing wrong with your ‘old things’.

Little does he know these are the most resilient and reliable datapads you’ve owned. They may not be to everyone’s liking, but they’ve been altered to meet your specifications. Truth is, you like the contrast the Imperial-era screens offer. Besides, the combination of old technology and the added First Order software makes your datapads harder to hack than the average one. Wasn’t there a substantial advantage in the old models, you would not have kept them. And given the delicate information you store in them, you rather own devices only you know how to operate.

Once out his office, though, you shake your head realising General Hux frowns upon seeing you favour them over the standard-issued First Order datapads. You wonder how he lives in peace if he takes such trivial things as a direct attack to the Order and himself. Now you come to understand those figures. That man needs to loose himself a bit before his discipline and tension consume him and those around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my late Christmas gift for you all. My best wishes to you in this new year.


	5. New addition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're not happy with Hux’ decision but you must keep following his orders. Also, new characters are introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: I settled on the honorific 'sir' for all First Order officers (the main character among them) regardless of their rank and gender.

As predicted, it was an intense day. You chose to focus on the tasks ahead instead of fumbling about General Hux’ reaction. It was heart-breaking enough to discover the man you had secretly admired since meeting him face to face over a year ago didn’t hesitate to use you to cover for him. And, somehow, you managed to spend the hours not thinking about the lack of ethics behind his request to remain silent; his calculated decisions, or his manipulative offer.

After spending the rest of your shift looking for potential candidates for your new team from different sections of the Finalizer, you finally had a list of officers you liked both for their stats and because you had already worked with them in the past or with someone close to them. Once contacting those who were available, you scheduled a meeting with the applicants to interview them in person. For two shift in a row, your agenda was full with appointments all across the Finalizer; the first one taking place in a couple of hours. You figured you could kill two porgs with one stone and rendezvous with the officer in a meeting room on your way to your quarters before the day ended.

You were already tired and you had barely moved from your station. Slowly, you stretch your neck to one side and then the other, trying to get rid of some of the tension in your muscles. Looking down at your chrono, you note you should have left your work-station minutes ago. Putting everything away, you decide to detour a bit to stretch your legs and head to the mess deck. It would be nice to see a familiar face before retreating to your cabin for the night. If you’re lucky, you might catch Dopheld Mitaka there and have dinner with someone you know instead of eating in your room or in the mess hall with unknown officers whose work-shifts happened to end at the same time as yours.

You’re picking up your last provisions of the day when you spot the Lieutenant at the other side of the hall chatting with a pale, dark-haired woman in a black uniform you recognise as Chief Petty Officer Nastia Unamo who once was part of your Efficiency Evaluation Team. They’re engrossed in what seems to be work-related conversation while eating, but soon they stop talking the instant your ex-assistant notices you staring; making Dopheld look up as well to see what cough her attention. From across the room, you nod at them and arch your eyebrows to your friend; silently asking if it’s okay for you to join them. He bobs his head and moves one of the chairs near them for you to sit at their table.

“Lieutenant Mitaka. Chief Petty Officer Unamo,” you greet the officers when approaching them, beckoning to them to remain on their seats. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” you add noticing Unamo’s blue eyes widening and Dopheld’s dark ones sparkling.

“Captain (y/s),” they both respond, straightening their posture in a mock stand to attention.

“Of course not,” Dopheld continues, still addressing you formally: “Please, take a seat, sir. We were just going over what we did today.”

“I see you’re here earlier than expected after all. That’s good,” you lightly comment, accepting your friend’s invitation. You try your food and your subordinates soon follow your example. “Tell me, Mitaka,” you ask to reduce any possible tension, “was your day as stressful as you feared?”

“It was quite a busy day, actually,” the grey-suited officer answers, his expression softening at your question. “But nothing we cannot handle, right?” He casually adds, asking the lower-ranking officer at his side.

“Right, sir,” is all she says before looking down to her plate.

“And yours, Unamo?” You ask her after a minute in the accustomed tone you use when working with your team, which more often than not means skipping titles form your part. Because, stars, it’d be exhausting to say ‘Chief Petty Officer’ whenever you address her. Moreover, like yourself, she could use to engage in a more laidback conversation right now. “How’s the bridge been treating you?”

“I can’t complain, Captain. I learn a lot every day,” she curtly replies, apparently not used to seeing you being so familiar with each other. Nastia Unamo knows you and Dopheld Mitaka have worked together before, but it’s not usual for you two to forego protocol when in presence of other officers. This is probably the first time she’s witnessed either of you do so.

“Good to hear that,” you comment. “Had I known he was your boss, I would have asked Dopheld here to keep an eye on you. You were a talented student under my tutelage, Unamo. And I bet you still are under his. Is she not?” You ask, now facing your friend.

“Yes, she is doing a great job, I have to say,” He responds, making officer Unamo’s expression brighten even more at the combined praise. “I did not know she used to be your student, though.”

“She was one of my first assistants when I was transferred to the Finalizer,” you explain, remembering how friendly the woman was with you despite your different ranks.

“I knew there was something recognisable in her behaviour and the way she works,” he confesses. “Now everything makes sense.”

“You were a good teacher, Captain” Unamo is quick to add. “And Lieutenant Mitaka has been very helpful since I was transferred to my new station.”

“I wouldn’t expect less from Mitaka.” You genuinely smile at them, taking a small bite of your food. “And if you have any trouble with him, don’t hesitate to inform me. I’ll see what I can do.”

Dopheld swallows hard, focusing on the remnants of his rations. He’s aware you not only have the power to admonishment him: Being the head of the ship’s evaluation team, you’ve got enough influence to downgrade most officers on board as well as to send them to Reconditioning.

“Thank you, sir,” Unamo humbly replies.

“The same goes to you, Mitaka,” you kindly offer trying to comfort the Lieutenant, who just nods; his brow and lips curving slightly up.

You don’t mean to skip protocol to ‘help’ them avoid whatever punishment is deemed appropriate have they ever commit an offence. However, you are willing to intervene before things escalate. And if the transgression is too serious, you’d vouch for your friend and your ex-aide along with revising their cases; making everything in your hands to ensure the penalty is both bearable and reasonable. It’s the least you can do with two of your favourite subordinates.

“So…” Mitaka takes a deep breath, now completely relaxed. “How was your day, Captain?” He inquires, genuinely interested.

Here you want to just vent over your dissatisfying meeting with General Hux, but you know better than to do so right now. You are conscious you should not be unappreciative of the bargain, even if it was somehow disappointing to see your General using his power over you to keep you quiet.

“Mine was a bit… strange,” you admit, mindful that despite everything you still got the General to consider implementing your projects.

“Well, that’s an odd answer,” Dopheld observes.

“Today wasn’t quite what I imagined,” you say. “It was more tiring than usual, yet far calmer than expected.”

“Yes, I noted the General didn’t reprimand anyone for the performance report when he was on the bridge. He didn’t even mention it. Actually, he didn’t say much today.”

“Yes, he seemed quite thoughtful,” Unamo adds, taking a sip from her drink.

“Did your team do anything?” Mitaka asks you.

“We may or may not have something to do with it,” you state, wary of the repercussions of not following General Hux' orders. “It’s confidential.”

“Oh. I apologise.”

“It’s alright.” You sympathetically smile to your friend trying to dismiss it, but you’re not good pretending whatever happened didn’t affect you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” In a moving gesture, he places his hand over yours; squeezing it lightly.

“I wish I could, but I don’t think it’s the time and place to do so.” You lower your gaze to your joined hands as he withdraws his before somebody else notices. You sigh at the lost contact. It’s nice to see Dopheld cares about you. “I have a busy day tomorrow,” you apologetically clarify; meeting his deep, brown eyes and abstaining from revealing you have an appointment. “Maybe another day?”

“Alright, then. What about a drink tomorrow or the day after once our shifts end?” He proposes, not minding Unamo is there.

“Sure. I’ll let you know when I’m free. Would you like to join us?” You extend the invitation to the lower-ranking officer, figuring her schedule must be like Dopheld’s and yours.

You recall she was quite open and sociable when not on duty; almost the exact opposite to how she’s behaved so far. And you’re sure you’ll welcome her effervescent personality after a long day working to meet the expectations of a leader you no longer admire so much.

“I’d love to!” Unamo replies, excited. The cheerfulness you remember her for finally breaking through her good-mannered exterior. “I mean,” she corrects herself, “it would be an honour, Captain.”

“It’s fine, Unamo,” you chuckle. “I joined you two to have dinner and a nice conversation expecting we forgot the formalities from time to time. No need to use our ranks whenever we address each other on situations like these.”

“Of course.” She bobs her head, fighting the urge to also say ‘sir’ or ‘Captain’.

Dopheld and you just smile at her. You hope next time you meet she’s more comfortable. Being the lowest-ranking officer in the room –or, in this case, table– can be quite stressful.

“I’m sorry, but I must be going now,” you say seeing how late it is. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Have a good night, Captain.”

“You too, Mitaka,” you respond, standing and picking up your tray. “And you, Unamo. I’ll be looking forward to having those drinks with you two,” you add before turning around.

“So will we, Captain, sir,” comes Unamo’s eager voice.

You shake your head on your way out, smirking to yourself. You have to admit you’ve grown fond of these officers on your time on the Finalizer.

To get on time to your appointment, you had to take a shortcut through a desert area of the Star Destroyer. Thanks to this, you get off the turbolift a couple of minutes earlier than planned. It is then that you hear two people chatting in the distance. Their indistinct yet vivid conversation immediately piquing your interest, but you don’t have time to waste. You have an interview to conduct.

However, the more you walk down the corridor to the meeting room, the louder you hear their voices; making it easier to identify what they say. From what you get from it, they are having an argument and it seems something didn’t go as planned: A female officer is asking a male officer to give her some kind of information since her superior is demanding an explanation. The man and his unit should have been able to get something from someone, but the individual resisted. The man argues he and his men have their hands tied since the Commander himself ordered he needs the man alive and conscious.

At the mention of Kylo Ren, you wonder if you should be hearing this conversation. Had you more time, you would turned around and find another way to get to your destination. But you don't. You sigh, then, giving up. You have no other choice but to keep walking to rendezvous with the candidate for your new team.

Turning the last corner, you hear the woman suddenly exclaiming:

“That’s no excuse not to push the prisoner further!”

You halt to meet face to face with an athletic-looking woman in a teal uniform and a strikingly tall man in the same grey clothes as yours; making them go silent and look at you.

“Colonel!” You hurriedly salute the woman, who can’t be more than two decades older than you. The blue-green hue of her clothes along with the first two Aurebesh letters you catch sight of on the insignia around her left cuff – _Krill_ and _Aurek_ – indicating her high status.

“At ease, officer,” she nonchalantly retorts; her eyes resting on your chest for a second before turning back to the man who must be in his early forties. “I expect your team gets more information by the time your shift ends. Understood?” The Colonel points her finger to the officer.

“Yes, Colonel,” he replies, straightening his posture yet, somehow, still looking smaller than his superior.

“It seems your date has arrived, Glyn. I better find something useful in that report first thing in the morning.” The woman states passing by your side. “Captain.” She acknowledges you once again before turning around the corner and disappearing, not giving you time to respond.

“Captain (y/s)?” The man then asks.

You glance at him, taking in the familiar _Dorn, Isk,_ double _Leth, Osk_ and _Nern_ along the black and silver stripe on his light-grey sleeve. Your expression relaxing and your lips curving up slightly in a welcoming smile. His uniform doesn’t differ much from yours after all. He even proudly displays his access cylinders on his chest: Four under each breastbone; the same number than you.

“Captain Glyn,” you look up to greet the altitudinous man, recognising him as the applicant from the Intelligence department you came to interview. A potential ally as him would be a useful addition to your new team. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. And I didn’t recognise you from the identification picture on your record.”

“Don’t apologise, you shouldn’t have witnessed that anyways. And people usually don’t recognise me at first glance when I shave this much.” He takes his hand to the face as if stroking his non-existent imperial beard. “But I think I look younger like this,” he adds, making you snort.

It was not just the lack of facial hair, but rather his high what threw you off earlier. You have to admit, though, he is quite handsome and captivating with his tall frame and jovial smile.

“Please, follow me. This should not take long.” You signal him to enter an empty room at your left. “I wonder if you have an idea what this interview is for,” you ask, taking a seat with him.

“Just a general idea. I know who you are and I can only imagine why you’d want a Captain from Intelligence with my experience in your team.”

“I have revised your record and you qualify as the type of officer I am looking for.” You take a look at your datapad. “It says here you worked with officers from the First Order Security Bureau before being stationed here.”

“My unit was requested to work on the Finalizer as soon as the ship was operational,” he clarifies.

“I see. I cannot reveal exactly what kind of team I am putting together just yet, but I am sure this is nothing new to you.”

“I know.” He tilts his head slightly forward in an emphatic gesture. “Secrecy is my speciality, sir.” Glyn’s lips curve on one side as he keeps his eyes on you, but he looks honest and not smug in the slightest.

“Good,” you reply trying not to smirk at his joke. You’re starting to like this man already. “You must understand the tasks you will perform should you be selected are to remain confidential. You will only report to me. And if a superior asks you to give them information which you are not allowed to disclose, they shall speak to me first.”

“I understand, Captain (y/s).”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all, sir.”

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief and you skip protocol entirely:

“Really, Captain? You don’t mind spending most of your duty hours working for a fellow Captain you’ve never met before?”

“Honestly?” He knits his brow. “The more time I spend working for you the better,” he confesses.

“Alright, then. I must inform you, you will still be able to guide and supervise your own team in the Intelligence department when you are not working for me. You will have to find another officer to lead them, though, for I will demand that you spend most of your time taking care of the different responsibilities I assign to you.”

“I can do that.”

“Do you still want this job, Captain?”

“I do, sir,” he replies with conviction. His expression relaxing as he opens up: “I want to be part of your team even if it means being under your command and not spending much time with my men. And I do understand the moment I start working for you they will no longer be _my_ men.”

“Welcome to the team then, Captain Glyn.” You extend your hand for him to shake it, which he does with enthusiasm. “You have a standard week to find a new head for your team. You’ll start working for me as soon as you are done with your report for the Colonel. Send me a message then and I’ll contact you.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to start working with you, sir. It will be nice to spend less time around the Colonel,” he admits.

“I can inform her of your new job if you want me to,” you offer.

“Thank you very much, sir, but I’d rather give the Colonel the news in person.” He announces with a contagious smile on his face.

“Very well then.” You smile back, amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your chance to comment with your petitions and thoughts regarding the romantic and sex scenes. Next chapters will be updated once you mention how you'd like those scenes to be. I warn you, it will take a few days to adapt the chapter to your taste.


	6. Charming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get to know your routine as CEE on the Finalizer and learn how you got to this point in your career.
> 
> Also, General Hux does it again and you are not happy about the consequences of his decisions. Our favourite ginger has some new competition winning your favour and heart.
> 
>  **Trigger Warning** for body movement restriction and use of weapons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is an unusual chapter, both in length and narrative style, but I had the feeling there was no other way to write it.
> 
> I really hope you like it! 
> 
> Now, get ready for a new dose of Aurebesh and some fighting jargon.

Not bothering to wait for the doors to open completely, you get off the turbolift and speed-walk straight to the conference room. You imagine everyone in there chatting; already complaining about being forced to wait for you before the reunion commences. You better hurry up; you don’t want to keep your audience waiting. They’ll be displeased if you arrive too late for the meeting to present your project. The last thing you need is a lecture for neglecting your duties from your superiors attending. The disapproving glares and the consequent humiliation you’ll get for the minutes of tardiness already being enough.

So, as soon as there’s no one else around, you run through the corridors as fast as you can to arrive at your destination with the slightest delay possible. But what you find in the hall the moment you turn the last corner is not the small crowd of teal; grey and black suits you were expecting.

Instead, you barely catch a glimpse of a stern, pale face when bumping into a solid, dark-clothed torso. A pair of strong arms immediately holding you closer as their owner takes a step back with you. For a second there, all you see is someone’s impeccable First-Order, charcoal-grey uniform; while all you hear is your combined breathing accelerating. Yours, showing your exhaustion and alarm; the officer’s, his growing irritation.

“Sir!” You practically squeal. “I-I am so-so sorry.”

It takes you a full standard second to realise what just happened. You were so engrossed in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice the menacing shadow cast on the floor by the well-known frame of your superior. Nor did you process the evident red locks crowning his head as you turned the corner; your momentum slamming you headfirst into General Hux’ sturdy body.

Were you trying to avoid a reprimand? Too bad. Now you’ll get it along with the fitting punishment.

“You…,” comes the General’s snarl as he walks you backwards through an open door which immediately slides shut behind his back.

“Sir?” You fix your eyes on your hands still wrinkling the front of his jacket, not wanting to look up to see the scorning expression matching his voice.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” He scoffs; quickly grabbing your cuff and twisting your wrist in his gloved hand to spin you in one fluid motion. Without ado, he clasps your forearms from behind and steps forward; pressing your chest and cheek to the door.

“Oomph! N-no, sir,” you try to explain you were not avoiding him while making your best not to let the shock get the better of you.

You may or may not take half a step back to feel more of him. Or is it to reduce the pressure on your body? You can’t be sure; you’re not thinking straight.

“What are you even doing here?” Your General hisses the inquire as he steps aside, momentarily holding you with one hand to grab his cylinder and lock the room with it.

“Uh! Just doing my job, sir.”

You breathe in and out, using the rush of adrenalin to analyse the situation: It’s just the two of you and he’s right behind you. Your arms, the only thing between your body and his. Probably, just as yourself, he’s armed; his blaster hidden somewhere within reach. While yours, unfortunately, is more accessible for him than it is for you right now.

If you could… just… reach… his weapon…

Wait. You better discard that course of action altogether. And not just because you’re in disadvantage, but because you have the feeling that’s not the smartest thing to do in these circumstances.

For the Maker, you don’t even understand what exactly the circumstances are!

Regardless of that, you should never think of harming a fellow officer as your first option; let alone the General. Besides, had he wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now.

You can do better than this, right?

You’ve been in situations like this one before while training. If you could just take a step forward, or get him to twist your arms a little bit in the other direction, you could break free and easily immobilise him. 

But you know that will only infuriate him. And you have to ask yourself:  
Is that really what you want to do?  
Do you even want him to let you go?

And so, not wishing to push your luck with your General, you do exactly the opposite. You don’t escape. You submit to him instead.

“So dutiful, are you not?” You can almost hear his mischievous grin when you calm down, allowing him to press his chest harder against your back; helplessly pinning you to the cool durasteel.

You gasp in response; feeling an unexpected, warm sensation you immediately recognise take over you. Damn you and your lust for the General. Were you not at work; was he not your superior, you would beg the handsome man to hold you even closer.

“Yes, my General,” you keenly reply feeling your heartbeat rising and your face reddening at the thought of what you wish General Hux actually did to you.

“Mmmn,” he murmurs, practically savouring your answer. “And so polite too,” he observes; his mouth surprisingly close to your ear for you to look as relaxed as you want to appear. You can hear every intake of air and feel his warm breath on your skin.

You gulp; his actions and reactions not helping you to concentrate in the slightest. But, after another second, you finally state with conviction:

“Of course, sir.”

Too many seconds pass and you can’t be sure if you’re reading the situation right. The suspense is killing you. Thus, both to catch a glance of his expression and in an attempt to concentrate on the situation at hand, you struggle a bit and manage to turn your head just a bit. But, out of the corner of your eye, all you see is the still exasperated, strict-looking ginger staring back at you.

“Captain (y/s)…,” he retorts tutting; threatening you, “…you test my patience.”

“I’m sorry, General.” You lower your gaze.

“Don’t be,” he corrects you in that characteristically commanding tone of his, just like in those immoral dreams.

It’s that low, predatory voice and his mouth so close to your skin what makes your legs tremble. That’s another reason you’re grateful for the General restraining you tightly despite his apparent frustration towards you. Was he not, you’d be a puddle on the floor now.

Despite this, you finally gather the courage to ask: 

“Why, sir?”

“You can’t run away from me. I finally have you with me, where you belong.” 

**_Bee-bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-bee-beep!_ **

You open your eyes with a jerk when feeling your datapad beeping and flashing non-stop, signalling it is time to wake up. You yawn, flushed and aroused, realising it was just another dream. How long had it been since the last one? A whole month, almost? And he had to summon you to his office and ruin a perfect score. That bastard. Who does he think he is, getting into your head like this in your sleep? How are you supposed to look at him in the eyes now!

Stretching, you roll off the bed to turn off both the annoying blinking light and the dreadful noise. You hurry to the other side of your small cabin to remove the device from its charging station and enter a very specific series of codes to unlock it. It’s your first alarm, you see; meaning you have plenty of time to get ready. It takes you a while to deactivate the alarm, but by the time you are finally done, you’re fully awake and more than ready to start your morning routine.

The first thing you do next is playing your favourite music to set the mood. You’re feeling surprisingly invigorated today; well-rested as if you had slept more than you actually did. You immediately make your bed and gather your uniform; boots; towel; hair accessories and a bag with your personal-hygiene products; placing them on your bed. Any other day, you would immediately take them with you to the shared refreshers at the end of the hall which, at this hour, is not as busy as it will be in forty minutes. But today, after your last reunion with a certain General, you first look for any new messages and check your agenda for the cycle.

“Ugh, right. The interviews,” you miserably utter remembering what a busy day it will be today; running across the Finalizer from bow to stern to keep the promises you made to General Hux.

You feel something funny in your gut when thinking of him, but you don’t pay much attention to the sensation the instant you see that you received a new mail a few minutes ago. It must be just some physical reaction to your dissatisfaction with the circumstances in which you are forced to do your job.

You falter for a second. What if the sender is General Hux asking you to do something like deleting the evidence of his negative impact on the ship’s performance? Would he order you to do something like that?

But it’s not from him, nor is it marked as urgent. Then again, you figure that there’s a good reason why somebody is contacting you so early in the cycle. You shake your head, deciding to read the message right away regardless of your apprehension. 

> In the end, you’re glad to find out it was not what you feared. You relax when seeing it’s a letter sent by your charismatic colleague, Captain Glyn. It reads:

> Captain (y/n) (y/s), CEE.
> 
> It pleases me to notify you of my immediate availability and complete disposition to start working for you.
> 
> Rest assured my previous duties will not interfere with my new ones. I presented my resignation documents to my project supervisor and they have already been approved. Additionally, I did not have difficulties finding a director for the team which I will no longer be leading. I put one of my best men in charge, so it will be easy for both the team and myself to adapt to these changes.
> 
> As much as it pains me to be away from those I worked with for many years, I am both happy and grateful to work by your side now. We might come from different backgrounds, but our responsibilities and motivations are the same. I am confident we will get along and succeed in improving this vessel’s and its personnel’s performance.
> 
> To be honest, I find myself eager and ready to work for you. I look forward to hearing from you soon and receiving my first assignments. Please, feel free to contact me at any hour.
> 
> Finally yours,   
>  Captain D. Glyn, EE.

What a charming and enthusiastic man. You couldn’t have chosen a better candidate from Intelligence. Although, now he’s part of the Efficiency Evaluation crew. You’ll have to get used to this.

You can’t help to smile when writing back to the Captain. You thank him for his kind words before asking him whether his last shift just ended, and your suspicions are confirmed by his instantaneous, affirmative response. For this reason, you give your team-mate the morning off after tasking him with finding a schedule for himself which will allow him to have the necessary time both to rest and to prepare a short instruction for your recruits about working with sensitive information. You suggest him to keep the night shift he used to have, or one similar; both for his comfort and yours. This way, you’ll have someone well-trained working for you while you’re not on duty and he’ll be still available for the director of his old team during those hours. You also ask Captain Glyn to meet you a couple of hours before diner to go over the contents of the aforementioned instruction. You estimate by the afternoon you will already have a handful of officers for him to brief and train as part of the new squad you’re putting up.

Once again, in less than a minute you get Captain Glyn’s answer. It puts another grin on your face to see your new Efficiency Evaluator accepts your instructions while thanking you and wishing you a good cycle.

Charming man indeed.

Your second alarm goes off and you’re about to head to the refreshers when you receive a new mail. This time it is from General Hux and you wonder when his shift begins if he’s messaging you about work this early. Wary of the content of the message, you tap on the notification icon. The mail starts with him saying he revised the list of nominees that you sent him last night.

 _“Okay…,”_ you think to yourself. That wasn’t really necessary since you shared their identities with him out of courtesy.

You continue reading, and you have to read the next section of the mail again because what those lines imply catches you completely off guard. By sending him your list, you just meant to let him know the kind of officers you were considering. He said, after all, that you were the one organising your new team.

Despite all this, and without prior discussion or notification, General Hux sent you another list with less than a third of the original candidates, plus the name of another five officers. Just like that, he decided he didn’t fully approve of your applicants.

You curse. It might be a squad working on solving the negative impact the General has on his subordinate’s work, but it is _your squad_. The idea was to create it not just to help you and your co-workers to implement the problem-management projects, but also to either prove or refute your theory about the reason the Finalizer isn’t performing as well as it should. If someone is supposed to select those integrating this new team, it should be you, the ship’s Chief Efficiency Evaluator.

You take a deep breath, trying not to let this ruin your good mood. You remind yourself that he has the right to do this given his position; even if it means he fails to notice all the hours and hard work that went into both searching for the right officers and organising your schedule according to the candidates’ locations and yours during their free hours. A whole day of work the General just threw into the trash compactor.

By the time you read the next paragraph, though, you’re fuming. He orders you to interview his nominees before the cycle ends, and he tells you that you must pick at least two of them for your team. But that’s not all of it. He also sent the details of when and where you’ll be meeting them.

Suddenly, you feel like punching something. At least three of these meetings with his people will be taking place at the same time as your already scheduled appointments for the day. And the other two meetings are to be conducted only minutes after other of your interviews but in a completely different sector of the Finalizer. There’s practically no way you can get to them on time.

You take a deep breath instead.

You rest the weight of your head on your palms, trying to keep at bay the headache threatening to take over you. You sigh. There’s no other option; you’ll have to re-schedule all your engagements for today and tomorrow.

Making this decision, you keep reading the message. General Hux also wants you to inform him during the cycle which are your work-hours for this week, which makes you scoff:

“Of course he asks that after appointing these new interviews. How thoughtful.”

You go over the last lines of the mail with a sarcastic smile on your face. It ends with the General telling you to expect to hear from him and he adds that he’s looking forward to meeting with you soon. You curse, you are already feeling like punching the man in the face if you cross paths with him today.

You wonder if paying a visit to your co-workers first thing in the morning would be a good idea. You need to do something before interviewing the next candidates. Right now, you could use to talk with some of the guys under your supervision with whom you work best and confide in. On the other hand, it might be a waste of their time. Besides, the Efficiency Evaluation Team haven’t sent you any last-minute message. They already know you’ll be busy for most part of the day; if they needed your assistance they would have informed you. Thus, you decide not to interrupt your team and to visit during your lunch hour instead, just in case the new interviewees the General imposed on you end up being too much of a disappointment. You can always count on your fellow Efficiency Evaluators to help you concentrate and give your hundred per cent. If someone can tell what you’re doing wrong, it’s one of your own.

One of the perks of being CEE is that you have not a set shift. As long as you do your job and work the expected hours a week, no one complains about when you start your day. So, after contacting the candidates whose interviews had to be either rescheduled or cancelled due to the new orders from the General, you change into your standard-issued sportswear.

It’s nice to dress in lighter clothes for a change. If there’s something you can thank your General for, it is giving you the opportunity to dress a little more comfortable for a few hours and finally have time for yourself. Well, that and not taking Captain Glyn’s name from your list. Not that you’re actually going to show the man your appreciation for messing with your schedule and list of applicants. No. You’re still mad at him for that too.

Actually, you really need to blow off some steam before talking to General Hux or interviewing anyone. In consequence, seeing your first appointment is in a few hours with a group of technicians, you make a call and carefully pack your datapads; uniform and toiletry bag to head to the closest training deck. You plan on going straight to the meeting room from there and picking up something to eat between interviews.

Even though it still seems that today will be a hectic cycle, you see a chance to exercise with your favourite training partner now that the facility won’t be crowded and that you have time. Honestly, you don’t see another day you’ll be able to do this. It’s been over a month since you had any real free time and over three standard weeks since you even went for a run. You spend most of your days on your station reading or filling reports and conducting tests to your liking, and you know you should be exercising at least a few times a week.

“I’m glad you called,” says the towering, blonde woman stretching before you. “I was starting to forget how nice you look in these clothes.”

She’s dressed just like you. Wearing a plain, light-grey T-shirt with the First Order insignia on either upper arm; a pair of well-fitting trousers in the same colour with narrow, black and silver rank lines at each side which remind you of Corellian Bloodstripes; a matching hoodie, and sneakers in the Order colours. Although, if you had to choose who wears the First Order standard-issued sports uniform better you wouldn’t hesitate to pick her. The outfit might be the same, but her sculptural, muscular body which makes models and warriors equally jealous definitively adds something to the simple clothes.

Not that you have any major problem with the way you look in your sport-wear, but you did feel a bit odd walking down the hallways with the occasional officer passing you by in their regular uniform. Then again, you don’t feel out of place now in her company while in this casual outfit. In fact, the blonde’s comment about your looks has a bigger impact on you than what you’d like to admit.

“Are you flirting with me, Captain?” You joke; finishing your warm-up to look for some hint of deception somewhere on her pale face.

You find none.

“Oh, please, (y/s). You should know by now that it takes more than a pretty face to get me so interested in somebody.” She walks to a wall with some basic armours and hands you a cuirass and helmet before taking one of each for herself.

“Thanks.”

You put your chest armour on and move to the next wall displaying all sort of training weapons.

“What is it going to be today? Vibroblades? Staffs? Maybe blasters for a change?”

“You know why we’re here.” You step forward, taking a longsword from the blades section and tossing it to the Captain. “Now fight me like I want you to.” You put your helmet on and pick an almost equally long but lighter rapier for you.

“I must say…,” the blonde confesses, moving to the closest combat area in the training deck, “I was surprised to hear from you after all this time.” She faces you in short guard, firmly gripping the sword close to her hips with both hands.

“What was the surprise, Captain?” You ask, sauntering to the other side of the sports arena and taking a completely different defensive stance; holding your rapier with just your dominant hand and extending it almost completely, directly at the blue eyes behind her visor. “Me, calling for you? Or the fact I finally had time to come here?”

“Both, actually,” she retorts, taking only a few steps forward and several to her right. The long blade in her inexpert hands shaking a bit with every syllable she pronounces.

You fix your eyes on her, keeping your distance; practically gliding across the floor with every slow step you take to your right.

“Why wouldn’t I call for you? You are the only one around here who has a decent knowledge of these weapons.”

“Come on! You could’ve challenged any trooper on board or any senior officer with basic training on the use of vibroblades.”

“Please, as if you had seen me fighting with one of those.”

“True. For some reason you keep preferring these...,” she looks down to her blade and yours, “…practice swords.”

“They’re for practising, yes. But they’re not practice-swords,” you remark, caressing the quillon of your rapier with your thumb. “They’re sharp and still lethal.”

“But they’re metal antiques. And so feeble! Vibroblades and blasters do a better job.”

“Would you prefer practising with just a padded cane, or a holo-sword maybe?” You playfully ask, knowing full well how your partner will take the suggestion.

“How dare you.” She pretends to be offended and attacks you.

But you’re faster, stepping aside and easily deflecting her sword with yours. From the outside, you add a little push to her back with the flat side of your blade; just enough to make her pass by your flank. She took too much impulse and intended to hit directly at your centre. You saw it coming before she even extended her longsword and stepped forward. The result, the Captain loses both aim and stability; gaining her balance back several steps behind you.

In the second that takes her to turn around in a new offensive stance, you’re already waiting for her:

“I believe that point goes for me.” You tease her.

“Clearly. I’d be dead if these were vibroblades.”

“Please. You know why I favour these blades,” you state. This time you’re serious.

“Yes, but I don’t know why you prefer me,” the tall blonde knits her brows; an expression you’ve never seen her on her in all the months you’ve known her. “If it is for my fighting skills, you could spar with a trooper too. I’ve heard they’re proficient in all sort of combats. Some are trained to fight against opponents who use all kind of blades, even lightsabers. I’m sure your flimsy sword wouldn’t be a problem for them.”

“Oh.”

“I can talk with someone in my division and see if there’s anyone available for you. I think all parties involved would benefit from your combined training. I’d love to see you in combat with one of those troopers. Your technique is like nothing I’ve seen before. Who knows where this could take you. If you make a good impression with the stormtroopers, I can make a few calls and make those practices a permanent thing.”

She tries to hit you a few more times, but you keep her at bay with different assaults and binds.

“Well…, I’m not looking forward to having my chest pierced or an arm chopped off. Maybe I don’t take my fencing as seriously as to regularly train with expert soldiers, but this is just what I do in my free time.” You humbly reply, not wanting to admit to a fellow Captain you don’t trust a masked stranger who kills for a living to take it easy on you if the situation calls for it.

“Maybe you should take your training seriously. You have potential, Captain.”

“Thank you, but I enjoy being CEE.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m more than happy with fighting you whenever we can, as sporadically as it is.”

“And what about those officers over there?” She rests her gaze on the oblivious pair of subordinates dressed in black T-shirts and shorts, running at the other side of the deck; the tip of her sword moving slightly in their direction.

“What about them?” You ask trying not to be obvious you’re talking about the man and woman on the running tracks. Sure they’re rather good-looking, but you don’t think that’s what your partner is talking about.

“You know I won’t always be available when you need me and they come here regularly. Or more often than you do, at least. They might be young but they’re quite proficient at… close-range, physical activities.” She tilts her head suggestively. Helmet and all, you know what she’s insinuating. “Trust me, I tell you from experience.”

“Captain!” You drop your guard for a second to scold her. And then you ask in a whisper: “Are you trying to set me up with one of your lovers?” You blush, and you know the physical activity has little to nothing to do with it.

“Both, actually. And don’t be scandalised, (y/s).” She assaults again and your blades connect one; two, three times before locking. “They'll be just… practise partners.”

“I don’t believe you,” you scoff when you disengage and step back.

“Yes, practise partners who can be yours if you want.”

“Thank you, Captain Gwen, but I don’t need a partner. I’m fine like this.”

“I saw you jogging earlier. You keep doing that when you have a bad day? Of course you do. You could be in better shape and in a better mood. And you know these eventual meeting you and I have are not going to fix either of those problems. Trust me when I tell you there’s no better stress relief than a good…,” Captain Gwen fakes a cough before continuing: “close-range, physical activity; if you follow me.”

“Oh, I do follow you, Captain.”

“Good.” She’s smirking. You know that by the sound of her voice alone.

If she wasn’t wearing her armour you’d be tempted to remove the smug grin from her lips with your blade. A swift move of your wrist would do.

But that’s not a strategic move.

She takes a few more steps, one foot in front of the other, trying to circle you. As a result, you extend your arm holding your rapier, but not fully, and you move to the other side, keeping her at a good distance. Before you know it, you’ve switched positions with each other and none of you has attempted to attack.

“Are they any better than you?” You ask, considering her words after a minute of silence.

“That’s up to you to decide, I guess.” She shrugs. “I certainly don’t mind if you take them.”

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register what she means.

“Please! I mean, at fighting.”

“Pfft! What kind of question is that? I doubt there’s anyone better than me here.” The blonde changes her grip on her longsword after holding it at the same angle for too long.

“Well, all our previous matches say I am.” You don’t want to sound cocky, but you had to teach your sparring partner a few things about sword-fighting before getting to this point. Needless is to say, you still have no problems reading her assaults.

“You’re just good at one obsolete sport. I’d like to see you with a gun.” She rests her weight on one foot; twisting her hips almost imperceptibly and, slowly bringing the longsword to her right shoulder, she changes her stance into Posta di Donna. “Even with the most advanced weapons, you couldn’t defeat me in an actual battle.”

“I believe you,” you admit, flexing your legs more and correcting your attacking pose to resist her next blow.

“Good!”

She charges before even finishing to speak. In a fraction of a second her long legs; strong middle section and arms have the massive blade moving directly to the crock of your neck. You see the perfect arch the sharp longsword makes in the air before getting to a close range and fragments of the last years of your life flash before your eyes like in a holofilm:

Every First Order Academy trained officer must pass a series of physical tests before being accepted into one of the vessels or bases of the Order. Speed, agility and endurance are required. Which, along with fighting skills and combined with other technical abilities, determine the cadets’ training within their first years and, later, decide their future career.

You weren’t always good in sports, but persistence and a training schedule you couldn’t really change made you a healthy and capable officer. It was in your early years, though, when you were introduced to different kinds of work-out routines and combats. It was your curiosity in rare and archaic fighting techniques, however, what initiated you into the particular ancient sport of swordplay that led you through an unusual formative path. You were always intrigued about the Sith and Jedi swordsmanship of old; being lucky enough to find a fencing instructor in the Academy who wouldn’t mind teaching you about this rather impractical art compared to the other sports which are encouraged among the trainees.

Academic accomplishments; conduct; creativity, and interests play an important role in a cadet’s education too. Your personal record shows that you don’t excel at tactical planning or in combat to be a trooper; nor do you appreciate these activities in the same way soldiers do. Yet, you’re good at finding problems which no many people will see until it’s too late, and you are excellent at recommending appropriate solutions to efficiently solve them. These are good attributes for someone either working with other officers or leading a group of them. That’s why despite your organizational and observational skills you ended up specialising in Operational Analysis in an important project on Ilum and not in the militia.

Whether it means keeping an eye on infrastructure; organizations, or your co-workers, you’re interested in improving and innovating what surrounds you more than looking for a promotion. Although, this doesn’t mean you’re no longer pursuing a military career. You just wish to do your best for the First Order while rising along the way. Consequently, becoming Captain and being head of the Efficiency Evaluation Team of the Finalizer at your age were accomplishments that came with much joy.

Despite how much you like your current job position, you miss those days when a friendly –and not-so-friendly– match was part of your everyday life. You’re not a violent person, but you have to admit that facing an adversary is exciting. No matter the technique, there’s something about challenging someone and testing both your mental and physical capability while doing everything to win or, at least, to lose with dignity that no other activity provides. You don’t like hurting others more than you like being hurt. In fact, what you like about sport fighting is the implicit understanding that you and your opponent will respect each other and give everything to learn from the experience regardless of the result of the match.

But those where your days in the Academy. After your graduation, and particularly after your first months as a trainee on the Ilum base, you spent the next years focused on learning other skills that kept you busy; little by little taking you away from fencing and acquiring other abilities that would be useful on the battlefield. Before being transferred to the Finalizer, it was little the free time you found yourself with time that you could dedicate to practising your favourite sport. Besides not knowing anyone else interested in fighting with swords, the constant transfers to different First Order vessels as part of your instruction as an Efficiency Evaluator Lieutenant and the odd hours of your shifts didn’t help you to find a permanent training partner. That, along with the kind of job you were contracted to do, made it even more difficult to have someone you felt comfortable enough to fence or even to spar with. Hoping to avoid a bad review, people tend to keep their distance from Efficiency Evaluators almost as much as they evade their colleagues from the FOSB.

This is one of the reasons you get along with Captain Gwen. Until last year, you hadn’t noticed how much you missed sparring with other officers of your rank. To be honest, it tends to be rather awkward to try to spend your free time with a superior or subordinate, always wary of not making the other uncomfortable with either your seriousness or your light-heartedness. And you already have enough of that kind of interactions on a daily basis.

It was during your first week on the Finalizer that you met the skilful and friendly blue-eyed blonde from the First Order Security Bureau. Both her status and height seemed to intimidate other grey-suited officers in the training deck and more often than not you both ended up in a corner exercising on your own until you stated to meet up to train with each other. Since then, the two of you wrestle if your schedules allow it; occasions which make you remember your young days. These last couple of months, though, you haven’t seen her often, but when you two do run into each other here, Captain Gwen makes sure to fight with you for at least a round or two. You’ve never seen her outside the training facilities, nor have either of you ever directly contacted the other. You understand her work is confidential and it must keep her occupied. Besides, the Finalizer is a huge vessel and it’s common not to bump into a particular officer in months unless working during the same shifts and in the same areas of the ship.

But after what you went through this early morning, you had to contact your favourite sword partner. You figured you didn’t have much to lose if she couldn’t meet you here today. Worst case scenario, she had something else to do and you would either find a new partner or train on your own. Yet, it was a surprise to see the tall blonde in the training deck so early in the morning after calling to her sector and asking a stormtrooper if you could leave a message for the Captain. They had no problem figuring out who you were trying to contact. Apparently, she was the only outstandingly tall woman in charge there with whom you share your title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought the SW universe (or at least the movies) could use a little more swordplay and close-range combat techniques and I think fanfics are a great place to expand on this aspect. Having taken a few self-defence and fencing courses myself, I wanted to incorporate this beautiful sports in the story. I tried to keep the chapter entertaining while measuring its peace and the fighting vocabulary so it wouldn't be confusing. I hope I achieve my goal.
> 
> On another note, I know I said there would be smut in the next chapters, but this one was already too long for that (about six thousand words long, in fact) and I had to end it like that. But fear not, I'm still planning to add a few hot scenes here and there from now on. So, make all the comments regarding your preferences, for the next chapter will be far more exciting and steamy than this one.
> 
> The more you comment, the more pressured I am to update. So don't hesitate to do so even if it's just for a random question; an observation; suggestions, or constructive criticism.


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